


encore, encore

by decoying



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Exhibitionism, M/M, Other, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decoying/pseuds/decoying
Summary: Maybe Bloodhound wants a performance, and hell if Elliott and Octavio won't put on a show.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Octane | Octavio Silva, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 9
Kudos: 100





	encore, encore

**Author's Note:**

> yes mirage has an exhibition kink no i will not be taking questions

Elliott knows he’s got a volume problem. 

His whole life has basically been one long series of people telling him to shut up, pipe down, _Elliott, lower your voice—_ hell, he even made a career out of his over-the-top personality. 

Growing up, it’s all he got in school, too; he’d need more fingers to count the scoldings, time-outs, the detentions. Used to be, he was pretty self-conscious about it. The other legends wouldn’t believe it, but he knows how obnoxious he can be, and he made an effort to control it. He really did do his best to shut the fuck up once in awhile.

That is, until he met Octavio.

Turns out there’s somebody out there who actually likes his voice.

And more than that, someone who makes it his personal mission to test _just_ how loud Elliott can get. 

Like right now, while Octavio’s balls deep and pressing him hard against the window of their apartment, pushing in deep and fast like only he can. _God_ his stamina is unbelievable, fucking up into him like he’s burning off stim. Elliott's dick is smearing pre-come on the glass and they both know this’ll be a bitch to clean up later, but _fuck_ it’s hot. Elliott can’t keep his mouth shut, panting open-mouthed and moaning like a whore. Octavio’s eating it up just as much, spurred on by every noise he makes. 

"Louder," he groans, " _meirda,_ let me hear you."

The surface is ice to Elliott's feverish body, the contrast sending goosebumps up his arms as Tavi’s cock hits home with every thrust. Shit, they both needed this. Octavio’s been on a hair-trigger all day, bored and restless with no Apex games held until the weekend. He’s been all hands even out in public, running teasing fingers down Elliott's back and grabbing his ass. Octavio laughed every time he blushed, cock straining up against his zipper by the time they got through the door. If he’s honest, Elliott’s just surprised they even made it home. No shortage of public bathrooms on the way back, a space they’ve made the most of more than once. 

Right now, though, there’s a better reason to stay home. 

_"Mira,"_ Octavio says, hot breath right in his ear, "they’re looking right at you."

 _"Fuck,"_ slinks out between his teeth, fogging up the window. Elliott's hips jump forward, dick rubbing the glass for some kind of friction, whining low in his throat when he finds nothing but the cold. He can’t see shit either, the surface smudged up and filthy—but somehow he knows Tavi’s not lying. He can _feel_ their eyes on him from the adjacent apartment building, sharp and prying like only a hunter’s can be. 

Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe he and Octavio were way off-base, misinterpreting their dry sense of humor for something more. Could be that their tag-team flirting wasn’t as effective as they thought it was—but Elliott doesn't believe that. Doesn’t want to believe it right now, hoping to God (or the universe or the Allfather, fucking whoever) that they’re seeing this, that Bloodhound wants this as much as he and Tavi do. 

He’s going fucking crazy thinking about it.

Another whine gets caught in his throat, because he knows they can see through the fog if they're looking. And if they really are looking, they’ll see Elliott on display, cock hard on his stomach and leaking all over the glass, Octavio’s dick in his ass and name on his lips. What are they thinking, sitting there in their apartment? Are they disgusted, dismissive? What if they really _are_ interested, taking in every detail of his body, sweat-slick and flushed, lips kiss-swollen and begging. And what if they want to be here too, fingers snaking down to touch themself and make believe they are, breathing going heavy and labored as they get closer and closer to coming and _—_ _shit_. Tavi wraps a fist around him, jerking in time with his thrusts and _fuck_ Elliott wants them here too, gloved hands on his chest, on his thighs, on his cock while he—

"Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_ _—"_

And when Octavio growls, "Give them a show, _cariño_ ," Elliott gasps and comes so hard his legs nearly give out. His vision goes white and wobbly around the edges, a moan ripping from his throat loud enough to wake the whole compound—and Octavio loves it. That, and the thought that maybe Bloodhound can hear him too, has him shivering through the aftershocks. 

When he comes down from his high Octavio’s still pounding in hard, balls slapping his ass as Elliott’s legs shake from the overstimulation. He’s trembling and moaning and so goddamn sensitive but fuck, it’s good too. He knows Tavi’s getting close when his rhythm’s shot to hell, hips canting wild and mouthing broken Spanish into the crook of his neck.

"Come _on_ Tav," he’s saying, only half-coherent, _"please_ , fuck. Come for me."

Octavio’s hips stutter and he fucks up once, twice _—_ groaning low in his throat as he comes, deep inside.

They both stay like that for a minute, Elliott chasing down air to catch his breath while Octavio kisses his neck. He gently pulls out to collapse back against the bed, but he won’t rest long _—_ even if he should. Never does, and Tav’ll be ready for round two faster than he can pop a stim. 

Elliott smiles, falling back with him, boneless and exhausted. 

He just hopes their neighbor got as much out of it as he did.

* * *

And later, when they’re all cleaned up and ready to go out, they see Bloodhound. Elliott goes an impressive shade of red when the reality of what they did catches up to him, anxiety coiling in his chest that it was the wrong thing.

They greet the two of them politely, the black eyes of their mask betraying nothing _—_ but Elliott could swear there’s an air of amusement to their posture. 

When they start to walk away, Bloodhound adds, “Oh, and gentlemen?” he freezes on a dime. And maybe he and Tav are _both_ ready to die where they stand when they say, "Next time, a simple invite would suffice."

 _Fuck_ , he just might take them up on that. 

**Author's Note:**

> bh most definitely enjoys the show, btw. they made it pretty obvious they were interested but mirage and octane have one single braincell between the two of them
> 
> (also did you know all the legends have their own apartments with adjacent windows perfectly angled for voyeurism? it's in the lore i swear)


End file.
